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Champ Waygord
From the Journal of "Champ Waygord" discovered in the lair of Yisarn A tattered and poorly bound journal. As the reader opens it the pages crackle with dried blood. The journal is largely empty, it seemed the owner had intended to fill its pages with tales of future adventures, however a life cut short prevented this. There is however a few pages at the begining of the book, a letter to ensure that the authors story was not forgotten. '' '' Champ Waygord here. As a young boy I was thrust into the world of exile, and.. Surprisingly enough quite enjoy it. I’m not particularly fond of many people, especially humans, and will often keep to myself, making very little effort to interact with my fellow adventurers. I see them purely as faceless disposable meat shields, which generally makes the working relationships I have established bearable. I spit upon my human heritage, and claim the Bonepicker tribe, who reside on the outskirts of the Harkenwood forest just south of the Ogrefist hills, as my family. Once a peaceful tribe who kept to themselves, the Bonepickers now breed strong, violent warriors, who aim to take revenge on the humans of the Nentir Vale, for the years and years of torture and culling that has come to their brothers and sisters. Born into slavery, the product of unconsentual relations by renown slave master George Firebrand, I endured years and years of torture. Dressed in a disgusting tight fitting suit and tails, I was forced to please the slave master’s filthy (legitimate?) children’s every bidding. The hate for the family grew and grew In me until one glorious day I was called to the basement for my weekly beating. A shard of glass concealed in the sleeve of the suit jacket as George Firebrand swung his club towards me smugly, I swiftly slit his throat, and allowed him to bleed out on the floor of his own very home. Standing above his half dead body, I slowly carved the letters CW into his cheek, leaving the very same slavery mark he left upon me as a message, “do not fuck with me” I whispered. As I stood there, relishing in my act, the young boy of the house opened the door, and which point I quickly escaped through a nearby window. I quickly sought out my family of orcs, who initially when seeing me as a half orc shunned me from the tribe. However, once learning of the violent act I had brought to the Firebrand house took me in as their own. It is here I learnt all the skills in daggers and bows that I would require to bring justice honour back to the name of the Bonepickker orcs. After fending off several attacks on the tribe by humans in search for vengeance for the death of George Firebrand, I knew it was time for me to leave the tribe, and make a name of my own. Category:Dramatis Personae